Mittens

"I think those boys are further up there." Miranda Flamel was the sort of girl who wore mittens in the winter. Not gloves, but mittens, soft hand-knitted mittens of so many designs and colours. She was also the sort of girl who wore her hair long and was quick to smile or laugh or hug; due to a combination of these and her height, she was often taken for a year or two younger than her actual age. Regardless, she loved mittens. She was, in fact, wearing a pair of mittens as she walked with her friends to Hogsmeade.

"Honestly, Lily, I don't see why you don't like them." Natalie Blackwood was not the sort of girl who wore mittens. She was, in fact, not wearing anything on her hands, choosing instead to show off her finely manicured nails, even though this was the last weekend before the Christmas holidays and the weather was quite chilly. The cold weather simply provided a good excuse to hold a cute boy's hand "for warmth".

Lily Evans was also not the sort of girl who wore mittens. She was, in fact, wearing a pair of gloves the same cobalt shade as her winter cloak as she sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. "Remus is all right, even though he's. . . erm. . . And I guess Peter's okay, occasionally. But Sirius. . . and especially that James Potter! He's so. . . so. . . so immature! He's full of himself, and he's really cruel sometimes, hexing people for the fun of it and--"

"And that's the way most guys are at that age," Miri observed from the lofty vantage point granted by an additional year at Hogwarts. Although Remus was rather cute, and actually charming to go with it. And he had such unusual eyes; they were a light hazel, almost golden, so deep you could fall into them. . . Miri shifted her focus back to Lily. Lily's one major flaw, Miranda thought, was her tendency to take her Prefect's badge as an excuse to put her "save-the-world" complex into action at every possible moment; the boys' tricks had never really bothered her as much before this year. And there was something else, too, that bothered her about James Potter, about which Miri never lost an opportunity to tease Lily. "Besides, James is obviously crazy about you."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." Lily turned a delicate red and quickened her pace as Miri and Nat unsuccessfully tried to stifle laughter.

During the younger girls' first year, Miranda had adopted the redhead and the brunette as little sisters of sorts. Somehow, she had also acquired the inseparable Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter as friends. The four boys had come to see her as an older sister that they could turn to for occasional advice about important topics like girls, homework, or where, precisely, to place a dungbomb in a corridor to cause the most devastation. When she was first named a Prefect, she had tried to tell the boys off when she caught them at their pranks. She soon discovered that it was hard to look intimidating while trying to suppress laughter, and eventually gave up, choosing to just stay out of it. Now, in her sixth year, she simply turned a blind eye to their hijinks, and advised Lily to do the same. Lily would never hear of it, of course.

Lily stopped and decided to humour them with a sigh. "It's all in your mind," she mouthed to them with a smile as she tapped her temple with one gloved finger. The three laughed together as they fell into step once more.

*

"Mister Prongs," James said gravely, "would like to know if Mister Moony will ever get off his lazy bum and actually do anything about his hopeless crush."

"Mister Padfoot," commented Sirius, "seconds that inquiry, and also adds that if Mister Moony does not make a move on the lady in question, that Mister Padfoot will have to do so, simply to spite Mister Moony."

"Mister Wormtail," supplied Peter, "would like to point out that Mister Prongs hasn't done anything about his hopeless crush."

James snorted, but flushed slightly. "All in your mind," he mouthed, tapping his temple with one finger.

"Mister Moony," Remus added as they finally neared Hogsmeade, "does not want to rush things." That was what he always told them. Normally this approach made things work out quite nicely, as when he finally judged the time to be right, whatever girl was his current interest suddenly became unavailable. It made things easier, that way. But it seemed his fellow marauders had grown wise to this "strategy".

"Honestly, Remus," James said as he adjusted his glasses. "Do something today."

"Or we'll do it for you," Sirius added, flashing his teeth in a slightly ominous grin.

*

The four boys stood outside of the Three Broomsticks, chatting idly as they waited (for no one in particular, of course). The conversation slowly died off as Miri and her two friends came into view at the beginning of the High Street, talking and laughing amongst themselves.

Remus allowed himself to look at Miri, to study her. Her pale grey cloak reached to her knees, and the collar of a charcoal grey turtleneck sweater and the fingers of soft mittens peeked out from under her cloak. A few sections of hair near her face had been pulled back into a braid, leaving the rest loose. With her pale complexion, silver eyes, and raven hair teased by the brisk breeze against the pearlescent sky, she reminded him of nothing more than a black and white photograph.

James's hand leapt to his already untidy hair, and a slightly lopsided grin appeared on his face as he watched a certain redheaded member of the trio approach, no doubt flattering her in his mind. Sirius couldn't seem to look away from the manner in which the breeze played with Natalie's layered ponytail. Peter looked at the three other boys and simply shook his head.

Natalie noticed the four first and waved before running towards them, while Lily rolled her eyes and followed with Miri at a more dignified pace.

"All right, boys?" Natalie said as she reached them, her large brown eyes shining particularly as she looked at Sirius. He graced her with a handsome half-smile.

James smiled at Lily as she finally caught up, who simply sniffed and looked away.

"Tough luck there, Prongs," Peter observed softly, as the seven set off down the High Street together.

*

The seven wandered Hogsmeade for some time, pausing at the windows of Zonko's to see the latest assorted troublemaking paraphernalia, or Dervish and Banges' display of wizarding gadgets, or the large plumed quills arranged in the window of Scrivenshaft's. While they watched the spelled miniature marzipan replica of Hogsmeade in the window of Honeyduke's, complete with falling powdered sugar snow and tiny moving sugar witches and wizards doing holiday shopping, the slight breeze had turned into a healthy wind and it began to flurry. Looking up at the sky and shivering slightly, Miri suggested, "Who's up for some coffee? There's a little teashop down the way that just opened. It'd be nice and warm, especially in weather like this."

"You know, I do believe ickle Remmykins was just telling me about that café, earlier. Weren't you?" Sirius said, shooting a significant look at a somewhat taken aback Remus, who didn't know what to say.

"Why, yes, he was!" said James, clapping Remus on the shoulder and leaning on him slightly as he picked up the thread. "And I was saying that it was such a pity that poor Peter, there, was so deathly allergic to the stuff."

"Allergic to coffee?" Lily asked dubiously.

Sirius nonchalantly elbowed Peter, who coughed. "Erm, uh, yes. Yes, I am. Allergic to coffee." Thinking he might as well do the thing properly, he elaborated, "Break out in a horrible rash if I even smell the stuff. Simply terrible."

"What a pity," said Natalie, as she understood what James and Sirius were trying to do and concealed her resulting laugh in a fake cough.

"Indeed, it is! Well, we five will just nip off to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer, then, especially with Natalie's horrible cough and all," said Sirius, smiling brightly and grabbing Peter by the sleeve. "Wouldn't want to deprive you two of your caffeinated joys."

"Wait a moment--!" protested a distraught Lily, who was being led away with a "coughing" Natalie at one elbow and a grinning James at the other.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of her," he assured Miri cheerily, and then practically dragged Lily down the street.

The two stood, slightly puzzled, as they watched the other five leave. Remus adjusted his dark green cloak and looked at Miranda. In the falling snow, she appeared even more to be painted in shades of grey, the only colour supplied by her wind-flushed cheeks.

"Well," said a rather bemused Miri. "That was. . . erm. . ."

"Interesting?" suggested Remus.

"That works," she said, and innocently slipped her mittened hand into his as they began to walk towards Madam Puddifoot's. "Oh, well. It's their loss. I've heard this café is really charming. . ."

*

Madam Puddifoot's teashop was, indeed, charming, if one's idea of charming involved gallons of frilled lace and yards of pastel ribbon bows. Virtually every one of the small circular tables was occupied by a couple. Miri and Remus sat in a corner, making small talk, poking fun at the décor of the place, and occasionally sipping the coffees that Madam Puddifoot had brought.

"I was actually somewhat hoping. . . to talk to you, alone," Remus finally said as Miri was idly stirring her coffee.

The spoon clattered against the table as Miri dropped her cup, flinging droplets of coffee into the air and onto her. A fierce blush mantled her cheeks. "Drat it," she muttered, and took her frilly napkin to begin blotting a large stain on her charcoal-grey turtleneck.

"Ah, here, let me help. . ." Remus made as though he was going to assist her in cleaning off her sweater, but instead changed his mind and started to mop up the spill on the table.

"I feel like such a klutz," Miri laughed when the mess was finally clean. "Don't know what got into me. . ."

Sparing a glance at the table closest to them, where two sixth-years were engaged in a rather eager kiss that upset their sugar bowl and sent sugar cubes bouncing onto the floor, Remus dryly remarked, "I haven't a clue. Absolutely nothing going on here that's shocking, or anything."

Madam Puddifoot, a rather plump young witch, came out to admonish the overeager couple, who actually stopped kissing long enough to look sheepish as she replaced their sugar bowl. However, a little while after she left, the sixth-years were at it again.

"You know, I always thought it was supposed to be springtime when that sort of thing kicked in," Miri remarked with a wry smile.

Remus chuckled softly, then looked at her. "Ah, hold still. You've something in your hair," he said and reached across the table. A portion of hair near her cheek shone wetly with the spilled coffee, and he tried his best to finger-brush it out.

Miri said, "Don't tell me I managed to get the coffee there, too," but trailed off when his fingers moved from her hair to her cheek. The light in his amber eyes made her breath catch in her throat as he leaned closer to her.

They kissed, tentatively. Then, as if suddenly remembering himself, Remus broke away and looked at her with an odd combination of determination and sadness.

"Remus?" she asked softly. "Are you. . ."

He swallowed. "Miranda, I'm sorry. I'm. . . I can't." He stood up, holding his cloak in his hand, but she caught his other hand across the table.

She looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. "Wait. I don't understand why. . .? Is there someone..."

Remus hesitated a moment, then gently pulled his hand away from hers as he donned his cloak. "You'd only get hurt," he said softly, as he headed towards the door, weaving between tables.

Cursing under her breath, Miri hurriedly left enough money to cover their coffee on the table, grabbed her cloak, and tried to follow him. She caught the door just before it closed behind him, jerking it open again and setting the tiny silver bells jangling once more. Several couples looked up in her wake, but Miri didn't care.

Flinging her cloak over her shoulders, she looked for Remus in the fast-accumulating snow. It wasn't very hard to find him; those who hadn't sought refuge in one of the many shops of Hogsmeade were generally rushing to do so. She finally spotted him walking quickly away, his head down and his hands in his pockets.

"Remus!" she called at his retreating back as she thrust her hands into soft grey mittens. "How do you know I'd get hurt?" When he didn't answer, she sighed and followed. Even running full out, it took her a bit of time to catch up to his brisk strides, and she was slightly winded from the cold when she reached him.

"You know," he said evenly, still walking and not out of breath at all, "it would really be a lot easier if you just forgot about me, wrote me off as a jerk and all that."

"And it would really be a lot easier if galleons grew on trees, but we both know neither of those are going to happen any time soon," Miri countered.

Remus smiled in spite of himself, then shook his head and quickened his pace.

"Remus, if I want to be hurt, it's really my prerogative, isn't it? And where are you going, anyway?"

His golden eyes met her silver eyes for a brief moment and another smile flickered across his face before he looked back at the street. "I hadn't really planned that far ahead. I was hoping you'd give up before this."

"Well," said Miri, half-amused in spite of herself, "I'll not give up. At least," she amended, "not until I get a straight answer out of you."

As they rounded a corner and went down a side street, he shook his head again, that odd mixture of sadness and resolve set on his face. "I can't do that, Miri."

Her amusement slipped away and was overwhelmed by her frustration. "Why not?" she cried, stopping. Something in her voice halted Remus in mid-stride, and he stood silently. "Remus, please!" He looked down, studying his shoes intensely. "Please," she added in a half-whisper.

With an exasperated sigh he turned and crossed the handful of feet between them in a few quick strides. "You want an answer? How I know, for certain, that you'll get hurt?" he asked, the odd light in his amber eyes so different than the one in the teashop as he grasped her shoulders. "Fine," he said, almost recklessly, something rather unlike him, "I'll give you an answer. It's not that there's another girl, or that I don't like you, or whatever. Honestly, I think you're really great; funny, smart, all of that good stuff. But the truth, the real truth of it, is that I couldn't even entertain the thought of a serious relationship with you, or with anyone, because--because I'm a werewolf." He held her eyes for a second longer. Then he looked away and took a step back, releasing her and stuffing his hands into his pockets again.

"What?" asked Miri, slightly shocked.

The momentary anger that had taken hold of him drained from him visibly. "I'm a werewolf. Bitten when I was a boy. And hurting people when you don't mean to," Remus added, his voice softer now and normal equanimity restored, "comes along with the territory."

"Who else knows?" she asked quietly. "For how long?"

"Besides the professors and staff? James, Peter, Sirius," he said, still not meeting her eyes, "since about our second year. Lily, not too much longer after that."

"They all figured it out, I assume?" Miri inquired.

Remus nodded.

"Hm. I feel rather dense. Although I was somewhat concerned about how many funerals you've been attending, wondering when you'd run out of great-uncles.."

She stood silently for a minute as she thought, regarding how the flakes of snow caught on his honey-coloured hair and eyelashes as he stared at the ground, on the edges of his forest-green cloak. Remus didn't notice, having slipped into a well-rehearsed speech by now. Things started to make sense and suddenly seemed to click into place; his monthly disappearances from Gryffindor tower, the flimsy excuses, his secrecy, even Lily's comment earlier. "Remus is all right, even though he's . . . erm . . ." Her friend's voice seemed to echo in her head as she turned her attention back to Remus, whose voice had the stiff quality brought on by many repetitions.

"Don't worry; I'm used to people's reactions by now. You probably hate me, or are scared of me," he was saying in a flatly neutral tone, "and I certainly don't blame--"

He was cut off by the not inconsiderable impact of a slight figure cloaked in dove grey suddenly hugging him. Stunned out of his recitation, he looked down the several inches at Miri, and tentatively embraced her. "Um. I can't really say I've had this reaction before. Things thrown at me, yes, but never people. . ."

"Do you have any idea how silly you are?" she asked. "I like you because you're you. Because you're Remus John Lupin, and that wouldn't change if you were a werewolf or a, a Squib or. . . or a dancing bear."

"So you know the story of my wild days as a dancing bear?" Remus inquired pleasantly.

"Oh, yes," Miranda replied in a serious tone, a hint of a joking smile playing on her lips. "I know all the stories. They've been circulating for months now, actua--"

He pressed his warm mouth against hers, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence. If she was being completely honest with herself, Miri would have admitted that she really didn't mind being interrupted in such a way.

Remus gently pulled away and looked at her with an air of complete gravity that was only ruined by the cheerful light in his tawny eyes. "Simply had to silence you," he said solemnly. "No telling what effect this would have had on my reputation if word got around that I was a dancing bear."

"But, you know, if the stories are already going arou--"

He kissed her again, more insistently this time. Miri could have sworn that for a three-foot radius around them, the snow must have melted away.

"Are you going to do that every time you start to lose an argument?" Miri demanded in a mock-cross tone, once she was capable of speech again.

Remus looked up into the falling snow, adopting a deeply thoughtful expression. "You know," he said, "I'm afraid I just might have to."

"I have a feeling we'll be 'arguing' a lot," she smiled.

"Ah, absolutely. As much as possible. At every opportunity, in fact."

She laughed and buried her face in his chest, finding comfort from the cold. "You are singularly the warmest person I've met," she murmured.

He laughed. "Is that so?"

She nodded and looked up, enjoying the feel of his arms around her.

"Because just the other day I said to myself, 'Remus, you would be, singularly, the warmest person at Hogwarts,'" he said, attempting to keep a straight face and failing, "'if you could somehow acquire some mittens.'"

"Indeed?" she inquired.

"Indeed," Remus affirmed, and kissed her again as the wind entangled his brown locks with her ebony, spangling both of them with flakes of snow.